Pain Spiral
by CaelnThoria
Summary: PLEASE READ CAREFULLY! There is implied rape in this story! So if this squicks you, i URGE you to please pass it over! Any flames that cry about rape and abuse, will be thoroughly laughed at, because clearly, I have warned you! Also...evil!Doctor!


The Phoenix says...burn for me...

A spiral, that was all he could describe this descent from glory. A normal life could not be had for his girls and boys, not ever, not after tasting such forbidden fruit called Space-Travel. All their misconceptions and self-bought lies that they were the only intelligent life forms in this universe dashed against the console of this messy spaceship swooned by his siren's song of promises, his devil smiles. Never minding the phoenix-fire that surround him, burning them until they could no long be recognized.

Every adventure was a judgment, with Martha's steps faltering every time she attempted to help him right what was wrong. No, she was flawed. She was dirtied like the rest of the trash he surrounded himself in. Oh had she only known...had she known what sort of a man truly lay beneath that handsome varnish. A new coat of paint can't hide all the damages to a structure, a foundation so cracked and rotten that it could barely hold up all the structures weight.

The words were always harsh. In this spiral of abuse she'd allowed herself to be sucked into, no kindness spared to her except for small doses of what could be considered a painful approach to false cheerfulness. He didn't mean anything he said, eyes so full of ancient lies, doubts and never forgiving her for being human.

The Devil says...lie for me..

Still she sought out what she could, trying to dig out the warmth inside the cold shell but it was never there to begin with, only destruction. Only disregard. How this man, this alien, so full of verbal hatred could gather to him a harem of sweet young women to ruin, to destroy and to forever inflict his mark of cruelty upon them. Once tasted and they burnt from it, it never left their minds, and he'd keep it that way for all time, an eternity of using, abusing and molding young women into what he figured he needed at the time, and Martha Jones had been no exception.

Oh his star, his brilliant Martha Jones, lost in the shadow of Rose Tyler, forever to spend 'not-good-enough'. The grin that quirked his lips was a terrible sight, as he stared at the photos in his private chambers, photos that spanned the age of time, that patterned his walls in a fashion that would seem masochistic and perverted. His laughter was nothing short of self-amused, brown eyes calmly taking in the smiling faces.

Her blonde hair curled in his fingers, tight to her scalp as he stared at her from behind - oh there'd been no warmth in his brown eyes, no kindness in his smile as her tears dripped swiftly down her cheeks, brown eyes so watery and full of fear, betrayal and confusion. Her cries were drowned out as he grabbed her forehead from the front and swiftly penetrated her mind, reveling in the sensations of her mental and physical struggles, grinding up against her until her body stilled and sagged in his arms, and he let her collapse to the ground, eyes blank. She never remembered...

The games he played, the way he touched them and let them see what they wanted. His kisses cold but his touches burning through their skin, and he often wondered if they knew how he got off on their tears and disappointment, so sweet like candy, so abundant in supply.

His teeth glittered as he stalked to the picture of sweet Martha Jones, budding Doctor and asker of questions, ghosting his fingers over the curve of her jaw. His lips met cool glass, a sharp spike of desire pressing up through his spine, a little groan escaping him as he stepped back to be encased in his private madness, his easy descent to cruelty. And when his back met the wall, his fingers ghosting over the front of his pants he could remember how she felt, so warm...so alive against him, her struggles so much more in earnest to a man she'd wake up the day after and trust.

His fingers are tight on her throat, his teeth sharp on her earlobe as he pressed so tight and vicious against her. His fingernails dug into her temple as he mentally forced himself on her - oh the perfect rape. No evidence that there was ever any struggle, but he wouldn't let Martha fade out on this - no, not with his mouth so close to her ear hissing out the one word that made her throat lock up with her sweet sobs, and her nails scratch at his waist (felt so good, so filthy) - "..Rose. Rose..uhn..Rose."

He licked his fingertips as if he could still taste the salt on them. As his left hand concentrated on the ache between his legs, he grinned at the ceiling wolfishly a shuddering gasp escaping him as his body jolted in pleasure.

He could still remember how it felt to hold her down. To listen to her screams as they drifted in space alone...a man needed his entertainment, after all. Brown eyes so scared, blonde hair splayed out like a fan of gold and dark roots as he pinned her hands down with one hand - his hand met her forehead, and he made it painful this time, watching her eyes roll up and that sweet mouth part in agony. She couldn't scream anymore, so he made up for the lack of noises with each shuddering moan, though it wasn't her pain that made his spine arch in pleasure. It was how willingly she took his hand the next morning...

The Serpent says...beg for me...

The ache was unbearable now, the release his erection to the stagnant air in his chambers a welcomed pleasure. His fist wrapped around himself, his knuckle lodging between his teeth as he began to stroke slowly, groaning. It wasn't long before he erupted in a flurry of white, widened eyes and heaving breaths, settled against his wall in his silent chambers surrounded by his countless victims. How they had burned for him...died for him...begged for him...and how he lied to them. They were so sweet and easy as sheep.

And he'd coiled himself around the flirtatious man, slipping a cool tongue between his lips to force feed him the poison in his veins. His body was cool, slippery like a snake writhing up against the Time Agent, who never stood a chance in Heaven, really, because of how easy he fell, and how quickly he drowned in the Doctor's prowess, promises and kisses. The tears had been especially sweet from those blue eyes.

His breathing was a heaving sound, his eyes shut with his lips set in a firm line. His fingers were sticky, his body too hot from the explosion of energy and hormones. Still he could feel himself growing hot, growing hard once more as doors were open, unlocked and stepped into, reveling in the emotion that washed over him as if it were fresh. New.

The Master's hair was tangled in his hair, his teeth in his lower lip as he forced the newly rejuvenated Doctor onto his cock, aboard the Valiant. The Doctor's back rippled and his skin reddened from the hard touches but still, the Master could taste the taint. The evil. He sipped delicately at the Doctor's mind, testing the waters for lucidity, and found none. Waves of memories crashed onto the Master's forebrain, pain and tears overwhelming him as he stared at the grinning man above him. With the dark eyes and wolfish teeth...a devil.

And yet now...he was alone. His footsteps echoed in the TARDIS, and he often wondered, when he was not lost in his memories, who he could tempt next. Who would fall into his song, and be wrapped in his slippery promises.

The Siren says...die for me..


End file.
